


Amethyst Night Sky

by alexokerry



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexokerry/pseuds/alexokerry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his parents and sister are killed, Aya (Ran) is taken in by Rezac Industries, the chief proponents of the mentally Gifted.  RI works hand in glove with Rozenkreuz and there is a mysterious man known as Ailill who basically runs RI's Human Weapons division.</p>
<p>Schwarz and the tempermental redhead are sent out to rescue a child from the clutches of Kritiker.  Can Aya realize that his allies are his enemies and his enemies maybe the only thing standing between him and death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things Seen and Unseen

** Things Seen and Unseen **

****

****

            Aya stood on the ledge just outside the building where his targets were hiding.  A tremor of anticipation shuddered through him.  Soon the ones that killed the innocent would be punished and then he could do….do what?  The only memories he had were from the last two weeks and the man who had helped him through this trying time.  He owed Mr. Rezac more than his life, he owed him his sanity.  And in order to repay the kindness that shone him, Aya was willing to take on the four men and one woman who had stolen a very important article from him.

 

The sound of laughter and the squeaky voice of a young child wafted through the window, verifying the information that Aya had been given.  With a blood-curdling scream of _‘shi-ne’_ , he burst through the window, katana drawn and slashed at the nearest figure.  One of the males fell back, bleeding from the stump of his right hand.  He turned to the child and grabbed for him.  A tall, slender figure with oaken hair and golden skin insinuated itself between him and the boy.

 

“Bind!” a female voice said.  Aya fell over as his arms and legs were tied up in an invisible rope.  He remembered the teachings of his new friends, to remain calm and to imagine the bonds bursting like old rope.

 

The invisible ties broke and Aya tried to flip over to finish the task put in front of him.  His breath came in short, hissing gasps as the weight of the remaining two males pinned him to the ground, despite his wriggling and squirming.

 

“Damn!  Shit!  Fuck, Dude!  What the hell did you do that for?” one of the men said.  “Marcus is gonna die, Dude.  You cut off his fucking hand.”

 

“He won’t die if you get the proper medical treatment and leave me to return the child to his rightful owner,” Aya said, glaring over his shoulder at the figures on his back.

 

“You’re not taking him anywhere,” the oaken-haired person said, tossing his (yes, his) long hair over his shoulders and matching Aya's glare.  “He’s gonna stay here with his mother and you’re leaving now, one way or another.”

 

“Murderers!” Aya snarled.  “Killers, assassins, butchers, slaughterers!  Prepare to meet your fates!”

 

“Murderers?” said the oaken-haired man, who seemed to be the leader.  “Who the hell are we supposed to have killed?  Hm?”

 

“My family for one and there are dozens of people that you’ve killed in order to steal the Gifted children from them.  Whole families are dead because of people like you.”

 

“Listen here, butt-fuck,” the _Dude_ guy said, from his back.  “We haven’t done anything except save people from the Company and from idiots like you.”

 

“Barret, that’s enough,” oaken-hair said.

 

“But, Yohji…”

 

“No, buts.  Just look through his mind and see if there are any coercions on him.  What’d you wanna bet that Rezac’s got his dirty little hands in this mess?”

 

Aya felt the barriers in his mind that he had painstakingly built from the ground up, crumble like ancient mortar.  A foreign presence filled the vault of his mind and he pushed with all his might to force it out.

 

“Nah-huh-uh!” Barret said, smacking his face hard.  “I don’t think so, buddy.  You’re gonna give up all your secrets and we’re gonna find out who you working for.  Yohji, Micah you guys wanna help me?  He’s puttin’ up one hell of a fight. ”

 

“Don’t tell me, Barret, that he’s too much of a handful for you,” Micah drawled from his position on Aya's lower back.

 

“You try to control him, ya bastard and see if you can do better than me.”  Barret smashed Aya's face into the floor, knocking him senseless for a brief moment.  He gave a shout of triumph as the walls that had been built in Aya's mind collapsed like a skyscraper in an earthquake.

 

A flood of memories overwhelmed Aya's mind and he slipped away from reality into a safe place deep in his mind.  A small line of drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes stared blankly at nothing.

 

“What the hellcha do, Barret?”

 

“I got no clue.  I think I broke him.”  He looked up at Yohji, waiting for the next order.

 

“Hey, Momma,” Yohji said, looking at the woman.  “You got time to look him over?”

 

“I suppose, since I’m the closest thing we have to a Mind-Healer here, I’d better.”  She moved toward the unconscious figure.  “Although, why I should care about what happens to him, I haven’t a clue.”

 

“Because, like every woman ever born, you’re a sweet, caring person who’ll do anything for anyone.” 

 

She gave the tall blonde a very unladylike snort.  “As if.  I agree with Barret, if I had my way we’d just kill him and let God decide if he deserves it.”

 

“That’s what makes us so different from Rezac, we realize that everyone has their use even if they aren’t Gifted like us,” Yohji said, looking up from where he was tending to Marcus’ injured hand.  The brown-haired man’s wound wasn’t starting to clot and the tall blonde was beginning to get more than a little bit nervous.  If the blood flow didn’t slow down they’d lose another partner to Rezac's greed.

 

Marcus gave a small sigh, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he slumped to the floor.  Yohji looked at the collapsed form and swore under his breath.  Rezac had just given him another reason to hate him.  Too many of the blonde’s friends had died, sacrificed to the man’s unrelenting greed.  He walked out of the room and grabbed a sheet from the bed.

 

Barret howled in grief and smashed Aya's face into the floor again.  He reached out and grasped ahold of the cherry-haired man’s mind, preparing to destroy it.  If he couldn’t exact his revenge on the man who pulled the strings from the shadows, then he’d destroy the instrument the man sent.

 

“Barret, no!” Yohji snapped, using his power to push the smaller man off their prisoner.

 

“But Marcus, man!  What about Marcus?!”

 

“We will find out what we can from this one and maybe, just maybe we can turn the weapon back on its maker.” 

 

“Waddaya mean?” the smaller man demanded, tears running down his face.

 

“Exactly what I said; if we can figure out how he’s controlling this one, maybe able to send him back against his master.”  Yohji stepped over to the fallen redhead.  “Tell me what you found in there,” he said, letting his voice take on the tone that he used in debriefings.  He hoped that it would shock the younger man out of his grief enough to realize that any weapon could be used against the enemy.

 

“He had some really shitty shields, built on nothing.  There’s a lot of power swirling around in there but it’s totally unfocused and chaotic.  He’s not been grounded or centered, but he was almost strong enough to throw me out.  And you were right, there were coercions.”

 

“What kind?”

 

“Well, they gave him partial amnesia, just enough for that bastard to twist this one to his side.  The feeling that I got from the kinks in his head, is that this one is expendable; part of that maybe from the guy’s own sense of honor.”

 

“Honor?” Yohji asked, his attention perked by that one word.

 

Yeah, honor.  This guy seems to think that he’s a fuckin’ Samurai or somethin’.”

 

“Maybe he is.”  Yohji looked at the fallen figure.  The redhead seemed so fragile and delicate, but yet so insane.  What in the hell made that pale figure think he could take on five trained adults?  Something wasn’t right; it wasn’t like Rezac to leave things to chance.  There had to be a back-up plan and the unknown was causing the hair on the back of the blonde’s neck to rise.

 

The wind rushed in the broken window, blowing dust and debris into the eyes of the group.  When they could see once again, four figures stood framed in the shattered casement.  The light reflected off a pair of glasses as the leader of the new group stepped into the room.  The man wearing the glasses was tall, not quite as tall as Yohji, but not a short man either.  Standing to his right was a tall thin orange-haired man with a sadistic smile on his face and to his left was a white-haired man in an untied straightjacket.  Between glasses and whitey was a boy of maybe fifteen, dressed in a schoolboy uniform.  The small figure’s hair moved restlessly in a wind that seemed confined to his body.

 

Micah stepped between the child and the four intruders.  He threw his strongest shield over both of them and drew the frightened child into his arms.  Most of his Gifts weren’t tough enough to stand up to a fight, however he did have one very powerful one; the ability to build nearly impregnable shields.

 

“Can I help you gentlemen?” Yohji asked, carefully probing the newcomers for the extent of their powers.

 

“We’ve come for the child,” Glasses said, pushing his spectacles further up his nose.

 

“Don’t think so, Butt-fuck,” Barret snarled, launching to his feet.  “You assholes killed Marcus and Remy and Daniel and……”

 

“Oh, lovely,” Orange-hair drawled in heavily accented English.  “We get the complete and total litany of why we’re the bad guys.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right, you get to hear the names of everyone that’s been takin’ away from us.  We didn’t do nothing to deserve the punishment you guys been dishin’ out.  And I’m just pissed off enough to rip your balls off and shove ‘em up your ass!”   

 

 _:Crawford let me handle these people,:_ Schuldig sent down the channel connecting the four of them.  _:This guy seems like he’ll be fun to play with.  I love the taste of ruined minds and ambitions.:_

_:Be careful, I’m having a hard time getting my Sight to work here; these five…ah, four maybe more than we can handle.:_

 

 _:As if:_ came the conceited reply.  _:If we can’t handle these weaklings, then I’ll eat one of Farfie's knives.:_

“Oh really?” Yohji said, canting his head to one side.  “So, we’re weaklings and you’re too loud.  I suggest that you leave before we’re forced to do something that you might regret.”

 

“ _Ja,_ _Kätzchen_ you just do that,” the orange-haired man responded.  “Prodigy, _Schatzie_ , keep them busy while I take care of the _Trottel_ over there.”

 

"Yes, Mastermind,” Nagi said, drawing his power to him.  The wind that always seemed to follow him swirled around the room, ruffling hair, clothing and papers.  Then the breeze died and the air became still.

 

“What the fuck!?” Schuldig snarled, grabbing for the child.

 

“Get the brat and let’s get out of here,” Crawford snapped turning his attention to the Talent in the room.  “Berserker, attack!”

 

The white-haired man attacked, going after the one woman in the room, knowing that the others would break off their fights to protect her.

 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *         

 

Aya came to himself, the gentle presence in his mind acting as a stabilizing point.  He softly pushed her out of his head, grabbed for his katana and slashed out at the man heading for the woman.  He now knew that entire story he’d been lead to believe was lies and that Rezac had seduced him into thinking these people were his enemies.  The only way to make up for the dishonor he’d brought on himself was to defend the weak and defenseless.

 

He jumped to his feet and slashed the man again.  His sword made contact with his attacker, slicing off a small strip of skin.  It wasn’t the effect that he wanted, but it was a start.  He lashed out with one foot, catching Mastermind on the side of one knee.  The tall German crumpled as his leg folded under him and he howled in pain.  The white-haired man looked confused, his attention divided between the cherry-haired man and his original target. 

 

The shields around Micah and the child reverberated as the little telekinetic tried to force them down.  As the kid concentrated on bringing down the protections that prevented the team from scooping the mark up, Barrett joined Aya in attacking two of his teammates.  The battle that had started around Schuldig and Farfarello swallowed him up, slamming him into the brick wall.  His vision filled with stars and comets and then faded to black.

 

“Mastermind,” Crawford snapped, “get Prodigy and let’s go!  We’re not going to be able to complete the mission at this time.  Fall back!  You too, Berserker!”

 

The team grabbed up their fallen comrade and threw themselves out of the third story window.  The tall, gangly orange-haired man looked up at Yohji and his team and shook his fist at them.

 

 _:Next time,_ Kätzchen _things will be different,:’_ he sent in broadsend.

 

“Yeah and we’ll be waiting,” Barret ground out.

 

Yohji turned his attention to the man who had started this whole mess.  “What in the hell are we going to do with you?”

 

Aya looked at the beautiful, bronze godling standing before him and turned the katana on himself.  Granted seppuku was supposed to be committed with the wakizashi, but as he didn’t have his, he’d use what was available.

 

“Stop him,” Yohji screamed, trying to reach the smaller man before he did something really stupid.


	2. To Dance in the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chaos after Schwarz leaves. And Aya being Aya.

To Dance in the Fire

“Stop him!” Yohji yelled, trying to reach the smaller man before he could eviscerate himself. Berret stepped up and delivered a sharp blow to Aya's neck. He fell over, out cold.

“Next time,” Yohji said, glaring at his teammate, “use a bat or something. Your bare hands nearly killed him.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Berret responded, flipping the tall blonde the finger. “Whatcha wanna do with this guy?” He nudged the unconscious form on the floor.

“We’ll take him with. If what you said is correct about the coercions, then he’s as much of a victim as Marcus was.” Yohji turned and faced the archway that separated the living area from the dining room in the small flat. He closed his eyes and began to spin out his personal energy into a Gate. He formed the warp then the waft, the orifice glowed bright, faded to black and then flashed brightly again. The room that came up wasn’t the same room as in the flat.

“Go through,” Yohji gasped through clenched teeth. “Don’t know how long I can hold it.”

Micah scooped up the child and dove through the glowing opening, followed by Vanessa. Berret threw Aya over his shoulder and went through. He handed the comatose redhead to one of the guards and turned to make sure the team leader made it across. Yohji stumbled past the threshold, Marcus' body slung over his shoulder. He sank to his knees and unraveled his weaving. As the power flowed back into him and he stood shakily up.

“Balinese, Cymric and Ocicat,” a quiet voice said from behind them. “I’ll meet you in the debriefing room. Take that one to the sickbay and have him seen by one of the Healers.” 

Two guards carefully carried the fallen form out of the room. The small, innocent-looking blonde that had greeted them turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the indicated room without waiting for a response.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Omi AKA Persia sat behind his desk, glaring at the ever multiplying stack of papers. Running the resistance group wasn’t something he really wanted to do, but if he didn’t who would? He had taken control of the group from his dying uncle and now he was stuck. Pendleton Rezac was a slimy, oily dirt bag, who would destroy what he couldn’t control.

“Glaring at them won’t make them disappear,” Ken said from the other side of the pile.

The petite blonde smiled softly at the sweet gentle man. Ken's Gifts weren’t as strong of as some of the others, but what he could do he did to the very best of his ability. His telepathy was so weak that he had to be touching someone for them to hear him; unless the other person happened to be a potent mindspeaker. His one powerful Gift had made him useful to the Company; he possessed the natural talent to see others’ Gifts. Not only to see but also to measure how strong the Gift was. As a member of that organization, he’d been a Banded Hunter. The bands worked to take away the wearer’s free will, leaving them as emasculated passengers in their own bodies.

Yohji had freed him and brought him to the relative safety of the Resistance. Never would he leave this sanctuary, unless the whole unit was pried out of their secure berth.

Omi on the other hand, had what was known as a Rogue Gift. He could absorb all the information from the minds of the Gifted, store it away and then give it to someone else that had the same abilities. He also had the capability to slither into any common electronic devise, not as well as his crack hackers, but enough.

He stretched until every one of his vertebrae cracked and popped back into their normal positions. “I know,” he answered, “but I keep hoping. I wish, just once that I could use some of the Gifts stored in my head. Right now, a Fire Mage would be nice.”

“Knowing you, you’d overdo it and…..” A soft knock broke up Ken's last thought.

“Enter,” Omi called, shuffling the pile he was working on off to one side.

The door opened and two very different figures stepped in. The first was a slight, ephemeral creature with a long silver braid that fell almost to his ankles. Large, silver-green, almond-shaped eyes stared blankly out of a delicate, heart-shaped face. One frail hand was grasped in the massive paw of the second man. This one stood seven feet, nine inches and weighed in at over three hundred pounds, none of it fat. The Goliath had salt and pepper hair, mustache and goatee and fathomless brown eyes. He had to duck to pass through the threshold.

“Sybel, Kavin what brings you two?” Omi said, rising to his feet. 

“His lordship said it was important,” the large man growled, leading his charge over to a chair.

“Kavin be nice,” Sybel answered, a sweet smile lighting his features.

“I am, can’tcha tell?”

Sybel's face became serious. “What I’ve seen has come to pass. You must be ready for a heart-sore team. And there’s going to be a new kitten to name.” He settled deeper into the chair. “The time has come to lighten your load in a small way.”

“Understood,” Omi said. “Do you know which one?”

“I’ve seen a great dragon rising out of the East.”

“Oh, great,” Ken grumbled, “more riddles.”

 

“I’m sorry, Ken but the future often is an enigma,” Sybel sighed as his eyes fluttered shut. “I don’t See just one future, I See multiple ones and often times each scenario is a polar opposite of the one before and I have to……” His voice drifted off and his breathing became deep and even.

“He’s not been sleeping well,” Kavin barked, carefully gathering his charge up.

“What can we do to help?” Omi asked, rising to his feet and coming around the desk.

“Find a way to stop the visions from coming.”

“We’ve got …”

“Na,” Kavin said, pulling the frail form closer. “He’d kill me if I let you give him something to block his Sight. It’s just that the revelations are coming faster and becoming more realistic. It’s getting harder for him to tell dream from reality.”

“If you say so,” Omi responded, moving toward the door. “If things get too difficult, let me know and we’ll see about shutting his Gift down for a while.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Kavin ducked through the door and looked back at the two behind him. “He says that events are coming to a head and by the light of the thirteenth moon, things will be decided.”

“Thank you,” Omi said softly. The tall man grinned and headed down the hall with his burden. The petite blonde closed the door and headed back to his desk. “Ken get the debriefing room ready and have the proper energy rations taken there. It sounds like Yohji's team ran into problems.” He began digging through the piles of papers. He gave a little crow of victory and held up a thin manila envelope. “This might ease the pain.”

“Yo, Persia,” came the voice of one of his hackers through the intercom system.

“Yes, Tony?”

“There’s a Gate coming up in the restricted area.”

“Thank you,” Omi answered as he headed out the door.

Ken followed closely behind. The dark-haired man ran a quick check on all his weapons, making sure he’d be able to protect his leader if the situation called for it. He knew that he owed Yohji a lot, but the tall, leggy blonde really intimidated him. The slight figure in front of him, on the other hand, left the athletic brunette with butterflies of attraction – well maybe not butterflies, more like a Luna moth or two. He would do anything for this slight man.

They passed through the building, walking by the private rooms of the ones that choose to stay here, around the sparsely filled cafeteria and to a wing that was Shielded to a fare-thee-well. They crossed through the Shielding, power tingling over their skin, into a room that reverberated with not only power, but Blessed and Holy energy. As they stepped into the room, Micah crossed the portal with the child in his arms. The little one was throwing a fit while the man tried to calm him. Vanessa and Berret followed hot on his heels. And then Yohji stumbled through, the sheet wrapped, lifeless body of Marcus slung over one shoulder. 

“Balinese, Cymric and Ocicat,” Omi said from behind the team. “I’ll meet you in the debriefing room. Take that one to the sickbay and have him seen by one of the Healers; leave Marcus' body there, we’ll deal with it later” Omi headed for the door. “You two take that one to the Healers.” The guards picked up Aya’s unconscious form and carefully headed out into the hallway connect this room to the rest of the building.

Omi lead the way to the debriefing room. The long faces of his retrieval team weighed heavily on him, but he had some information that might turn those frowns into glares of anger. His pet hackers had gotten into Rezac's system and stolen the files that carried any information on his teams. They reached the chosen room and walked past the threshold, a frisson of power skittered over their skin.

Without preamble, Omi announced “I’ve got some bad news for you all.”

“And that would be?” Yohji asked, looking his leader straight in the eyes.

“Ian and Tony were able to hack into the computers at the Company headquarters and found out something even I didn’t suspect.”

“Yeah and that would be?” Barret spat at him.”

“Marcus was working for Rezac and his goons.” 

“That ain’t possible! There’s no way in hell that Marc would be working for that damned bastard! “

“Would you like to hear what he reported to his supervisor about you, Ocicat? It wasn’t very flattering.”

“I’d rather not,” Vanessa remarked, dryly. “How much information did he get?”

“Not enough to hurt us.” The petite blonde gave a cat-in-the-cream smile. “He gave them everything that we wanted him to. Part of war is misdirection and only an arrogant man thinks that his safety precautions can’t be breached. Anything that can be cast can be destroyed if the opposing Mage is strong enough.” He shuffled through the pile of papers he held in his hands. “Yohji is a nymphomaniac that will bed anyone or anything in order to slake his unnatural lusts. Vanessa is a smart woman who tends to think with her heart instead of her brains. And you, Barret, are a, and I quote, ‘Neanderthal who has the finesse of a bull in a glass factory’. You also have the mind of a cabbage. Micah is weak and the one fragile link in your team. Marcus said that if they could get a hold of him, he’d be easy to turn although with his power level it would be a waste of time and effort.” He handed the sheaf of papers to Yohji, then stepped back to allow them to read what was written about them.

Yohji looked over the information and stored it away for a later date. He could feel the anger rolling off Barret like heat off the summer blacktop. The shorter man looked absolutely apoplectic and the oaken-haired man knew that the next time they met a team from the Company there would be hell to pay. He’d have a hard time controlling Barret. He looked over at Omi and canted his head to one side. “I did notice something; the other team isn’t as well trained as we are. Why is that?”

“I’ve told you that we’ve found a way of training our people that is a true method. If I remember correctly, it’s based on training given to the Druids. Until the last two generations, it’s been all oral history that has passed on the information that is required to use our Gifts. But there’s been an upswing in the numbers of Gifted children born. Sybel is a little worried about what’s on the horizon.”

“Something big’s coming, isn’t it?” Barret said, pulling himself out of the downward spiral of his anger.

“Let me put it to you this way,” Omi responded, sitting heavily in one of the comfortable chairs that surrounded the desk. “In all my memories I can only find one place where the number of Gifted was this high and that was before the destruction of the Holy Isle by the Romans in the first century CE.”

“Then something really gigantic is setting up to come crashing down on us,” Yohji sighed and pulled his shoulder blade-length hair out of its mission tail and shook his head to let the golden tresses free. “Alright, we deal with one problem at time. We can’t change something that hasn’t happened, but we can try to prevent whatever is coming.”

“Hey, boss man, what the hell is the kid for?” 

“He has his part to play in this farce, but not for a while yet.”

“So why the fuck did we need to go chasing him now?’ Barret grumbled, glaring at the boss.

“Because it would be easier to take him from the streets instead of trying to get into the Company’s secret hideaway; and that I learned from playing capture the flag as a child. Besides which, his Gift is going to open very early and he’s going to need all the training we can give him before that happens. Rezac wouldn’t bother with it and the poor little thing would be left to his own devises.”

“Alright, then why did we have to bring the redhead with us?” Yohji asked, coming to his feet.

“Ah, yes,” Omi said, getting back to his feet. “Let’s go see your suicidal kitten, shall we?” He headed out the door and turned toward the infirmary. Ken joined him in the hall and he could hear Yohji telling the remaining members of his team to go and get some sleep. They’d hash things over in the morning. Then his light footsteps joined the other two. Omi envied the tall, lanky man’s ability to walk softly. 

Yohji's Mage talents were second to none around the sanctuary; he was dashing, suave and knew the right time to say the right thing. With his chosen weapon, no one could beat him. The only thing that kept him out of the upper echelon of the organization was his laziness and total fear of being responsible for more than a single retrieval team. Maybe he’d have a chance to grow up a little more if he met the right girl…..

* * * * * * 

Aya woke up in a strange room with his head throbbing to the beat of his heart. He sat up and grabbed the sheets as the room began to spin. Almost noiseless footsteps were his only warning before a harried-looking young man came through the door. He watched the other man carefully, trying to gauge if he would be a problem or if he would just melt away at any sign of resistance. 

“Ah, I see you’re awake,” the newcomer said, giving Aya a reassuring smile. The redhead tried to figure the other man out. Jet black hair fell in smooth strands down his back; his face seemed to be chiseled from granite and his copper skin glowed with health. Black, almond-shaped eyes glittered with amusement. “See something you like?”

“Um, I’m sorry,” Aya stammered.

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave confused young man a smile. He held his hands over the lithe body, checking for any injuries he might have missed when he first came in. “Oh, forgive, I’m known as Wolf here. Do you remember your name?”

“Aya,” he murmured. “Just call me Aya.”

“Alright, Aya. Are you hungry?”

“Not really. I just want to know why the hell I’m here. Am I a POW?”

“I’ll leave that to the high, muckity-mucks to explain.” He placed one hand on Aya's forehead and the other over his heart. Wolf’s hands glowed bright green and Aya could feel warmth and strength flowing though his body. After a few moments or an eternity, the feelings subsided and the dark-haired man sighed.

“Alright, Omi and the team leader should be here in a few moments and then you’ll have your answers.” 

“Thank you,” Aya said, playing with the top sheet to hide his nervousness. The other man stepped out of the room, but he left the door open in case the smaller man needed something. He could hear voices drifting in to the area from a hallway. 

The voices came closer and three figures stepped into the room. One a petite blonde with huge blue eyes; he looked like he was about twelve years old; the second one, a dark-haired male with grey eyes and an athletic build. And then the third one, that one had distracted Aya during his battle: the tall, graceful oaken-haired man, Yohji (if Aya remembered correctly).

When Omi came through the door, one of the personalities with Gifts that resided in his head woke with a resounding _‘YES’_. The great eastern dragon came awake, roaring to be set free. The power behind that one drove Omi to his knees.

The time was now to bring the dragon back to life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawford and the gang have a meeting with Rezac and Ailill. The American's Sight begins to overwhelm him and his is drawn into a Future Tokyo that no one wants!

**One Tin Solider**

Crawford held his body at attention, not full military attention mind you, but still straight, tall and respectful. He kept his head tilted so that the lights glared off his glasses and hid his eyes from the man currently castigating him and his team.

Schuldig, on the other hand, leaned casually against the ornate, mahogany monstrosity Rezac called a desk. He had one eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk on his face. Nagi and Farfarello followed Crawford's example and were at least pretending to pay attention.

“….. I send you out to do one thing . . . one thing Crawford, and your team fails miserably. You’re worthless, the lot of you!” Rezac snarled, pacing like a caged, rabid dog.

The image of a poodle pacing back and forth and foaming at the mouth came down the link between the four. _:Der kleine General ,:_ the orange-haired German drawled. The likeness changed to the same rabid poodle dressed in a nineteenth-century French general’s uniform.

The little General was right; Pendleton Rezac was a man of great power, but very short stature. He wore lifts hidden in his shoes to raise his height, but that didn’t fool anyone. He stood five foot two tops, had stringy, thin black hair with an ever enlarging bald spot, a face that looked like ill-kneaded dough with a couple of raisins stuffed where his eyes were. His suits were always wrinkled and he smelled like he didn’t have a passing acquaintance with soap and water.

“And Ailill says that you’re failing on purpose. Can you explain yourselves?”

“Well, the team you sent us after was much better trained than we are. Schuldig said he couldn’t hear anything coming off the four that survived the encounter,” Crawford said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Oh and the operative that you had in that group was taken out by that deranged redhead you sent us to babysit.”

“Excuses, Crawford? That isn’t like you.”

“Not an excuse, just telling you what we observed. They kept saying that we were very loud and using a sledgehammer to shatter a teacup. I don’t think your friend is telling us everything or training us to the best of his ability.”

“Bullshit, Bradley! You failed and you’re trying to blame someone for your incompetence.”

The door to Rezac's office creaked open and a tall, cloak wrapped figure glided into the room. Crawford's body trembled as the temperature in the office seemed to drop by about twenty degrees. It might just be a psychological reaction, but there was something about the newcomer that made his blood run cold. All four of members of Schwarz felt the same, but Farfarello's reaction was the most violent. He actually tried to hide behind Nagi, whimpering and shivering like a beaten puppy. That response put the tall brunette on guard and he pulled his defenses tighter around him. They may not be as good as the team that they fought, but better than nothing. 

“Close the blinds, won’t you Pendleton, m’boy,” Ailill said, a heavy Irish lilt distorting his speech. “I can’t handle the light.”

 _:Ja and that’s why he looks like a fish’s belly.:_ Schuldig sent down their line.

“How amusing,” the cloaked figure drawled. “I’m sure that we could use a new court jester.” One bone-white hand came out into the light, the talon-like fingers crooked and the tall German began to dance like a corpse on a string. “Shall we see how long it takes you to dance yourself to death?”

“Nein!” Schuldig choked out. Sweat formed on his brow as he tried to fight the compulsions on him. Farfarello slithered up to the hidden man and brought the flat of his blade against the exposed arm. The skin under the knife bubbled and blistered and a thin stream of thick, black smoke rose off the appendage. The man’s free arm lashed out at the white-haired man, who wasn’t there. Nagi took his courage from Berserker and drew up his power to push the creature back.

“Nagi, Farfarello stand down,” Crawford barked. “Would you please call off your dog?”

“Don’t insult me. If there is a dog here, he’s the dog,” Ailill hissed, moving close enough to Crawford that the bespectacled man could smell the death and decay clinging to the cloaked figure. Ailill stopped when his lips touched Crawford's ear. “Your orange-haired associate had it right; Rezac is my little poodle and if you’re not careful I’ll sic him on you,” he whispered. An involuntary shudder passed through Brad’s body as those cold, velvety lips caressed his ear.

Crawford's sight began greying at the edges and he drew himself to his full height. This moment wasn’t a good time for a vision to overwhelm him. He stiffly bowed to Rezac and his strange compatriot and headed for the door.

“Crawford!” Rezac snapped. “Crawford I haven’t dismissed you yet! Get your scrawny lily-white ass back here!”

“Let them go, we have things to discuss.”

Crawford staggered against the wall when the team walked into the relative safety of the hallway; the impending prophecy blurring his sight. Nagi slipped under his arm and made a show of hugging the disabled man. The taller man pushed his Gift as far as it would go back into its little box. If he could keep it under control until they reached the shelter of their private room then he could allow the future to engulf him.

Schuldig slipped under the other arm and motioned for Nagi to run ahead and open the door.

“The Infinity Room,” Crawford choked out.

“You hear the man, Nagsters,” Schuldig drawled. “Get the room ready.”

“Yes Schuldig,” the petite brunette responded as he slipped into the room. 

By the time Crawford and Schuldig stepped over the threshold, the passage to the hidden room was open and beckoning. Crawford pulled away from the strong support of his second and staggered into the one place he felt secure enough to relax and allow his Sight to take over his whole being. Sighing he collapsed onto a futon that had been brought in there for just such emergencies. The grey swarmed over his vision and then everything went totally black. For just one moment, Crawford thought that he had died; then he wished he had.

_He stood in a foreign landscape or what looked like an alien world. Little by little he began to recognize landmarks. It was Tokyo, but not the thriving metropolis that he had just left. No, this was a land of corpses; with no sound except the wind moaning its loneliness to ears that could no longer hear. Over that mournful song came the ruckus of crows and ravens fighting over a feast. Further away he could hear stray dogs and feral cats contesting over the choicest bits of flesh.  
The smell nearly gagged him, the reek of rotting bodies and something fouler hung in the air. He walked carefully around the nearest pile of cadavers and came nose to nose with a twisted, misshapen. . . .beast. It looked like a cross between a mountain lion and a steer; the thing was definitely a meat-eater, Schuldig's half eaten body hung out of its mouth like a perverted marionette. Off to one side, Nagi's body lay whole and undisturbed, but his eyes stared blankly off into nothing. And Farfarello lay near him, still alive but bleeding from horrendous injuries._

_“They hurt,” he moaned. “God is angry Jai hurts.” The white-haired man looked at his leader. “Run Crawford! Don’t let the Unseleighe bastard and his little toy get you! Oh it hurts, the agony!” He fell back against the cracked and crumbling pavement and let out a little sigh as his soul left his body._

_Crawford stepped back, his lunch threatening to make a return visit. He turned to run and standing there in the gloaming of the day stood Ailill and some kid of about thirteen or fourteen. The taller figure wasn’t wearing his cloak and Brad got his first true look at the man who was pulling Rezac's strings. He was beautiful. Waist-length jet black hair that shone like a raven’s wing framed a heart-shaped face. Almond-shaped, sapphire blue eyes glistened in the middle of that angelic face and the dark of his hair accented the deathly pallor of his skin. Two things drew Crawford's attention; one the man’s eyes, his pupils weren’t round, they were cat slit. And his ears; tall, graceful points stood about three inches from the crown of his head._

_Next to him was the teenager. He looked totally ordinary, except for the look of total and complete evil that was burned onto his features. Next to him was one of the misshapen creatures and he was running his left hand over the head of the beast, like you would pet a family dog or cat._

_“You see, my pet,” Ailill said, stroking the boy’s back. “You don’t need anyone but me. I can give you all the power you need. Not only that, but I can also teach you to use it in the best way._

_“I don’t think so, Ailill,” the boy stated flatly. “I’ve decided that I don’t need you either. You’re become an albatross around my neck.” He motioned to the creature at his side and the thing attacked the older man. When it was done, the beast turned and stalked toward Crawford. The brunette was frozen in place by shock and his mind screamed at his feet to move, to flee. Nothing happened. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t break awful glare of that ….thing._

_“Ah, Mr. Crawford, the one man that I can thank for everything he’s done for me,” the boy stated, flatly. “I am what I am thanks to your gentle care and sense of duty. I think you should have the same punishment as the rest of my captures … death.” He motioned and the great animal crouched and sprung at the Seer._

_Crawford closed his eyes and prepared for his impending demise. Part of him hoped that if he died while in a vision, his body would continue on living._

_“Here, take my hand!” a voice broke through the paralytic spell. He reached for the proffered appendage, grasping it with everything in him. He was pulled into a different Tokyo; this one was normal with no piles of corpses or weird, ravenous creatures devouring everything in sight._

_“Thank you,” Crawford gasped, a shudder running through his body at the memory of what he saw. He turned his attention back to his savior. The young man barely reached his shoulder; he had unbound hair that fell past his ankles and silvery-green eyes that bore right through him. His sweet, heart-shaped face was similar to Ailill's, but it lacked the overpowering sense of evil. Something about this one told the bespectacled man that he was young of age, but old in power._

_“No problem,” the new man answered. He turned and walked to a nearby bench. “Come, sit. We need to have a very serious talk. Oh, please forgive me, I’m known as Sybel, Mr. Brad Crawford.”_

_“You know who I? That’s surprising,” Crawford answered._

_“And why shouldn’t I know who you are? Our kind isn’t exactly common even amongst the realm of the Gifted. Now come and sit.” He patted the seat next to him._

_“As you wish,” Crawford said, pushing his glasses firmly into place on his nose. He sauntered over and sprawled next to Sybel, taking a page out of Schuldig's book. Thinking of his orange-haired subordinate sobered him up._

_“Yes, you’re thinking of the future that you Saw. I can’t believe that you’re going into such dangerous situations without the proper training. Don’t you understand that you could have died? If your body dies in here there’s a good chance that you’ll cease exist in the real world also. You need to be better Shielded.”_

_“And how should I do that?”_

_“That’s where I come in. Oh and about what you saw; please remember that the future is always in motion, constantly flowing like a river. This is what happens if Ailill doesn’t get his slimy paws on our Colby. You have to be able to see all possibilities.”_

_“I see,” Crawford cautiously answered._

_“And you will.” Sybel touched the other Seer’s forehead and drew the untrained man into his own mind. Looking around at the clutter, Crawford knew he had a lot of work ahead of him. “This is your center, fix it.”_


	4. Dragon of the East

The Dragon of the East

_‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’_ Echoed through Omi's mind as his body hit the floor; the information and power he had harbored within him poured out his mouth. A steady stream of fire blazed from his person, becoming a dragon in form as it raced for the unconscious figure on the infirmary cot. It surrounded the bed, burned away the bedding, mattress and melted the steel bedframe.

Aya sat up, his eyes staring blankly. He stood off the nothingness that supported his body and took a deep breath. The power poured into him and Yohji noticed that something was missing; the redhead’s clothing had been burned away by the purifying fire.

The leggy blonde stared at his perfect body. Creamy white skin lay over lithe muscles, he looked a Greek god come to life. Maybe Eros or Apollo come down from Mount Olympus to mingle with mere mortals. On the godly body there wasn’t an inch of fat and the few scars that shone whitely against that alabaster skin seemed to accent his masculine beauty rather than mar it. 

Aya walked toward the group, the flames flickering in his hair and his half-aroused manhood bobbing from its bed of cherry-red curls. He stepped over and lifted Omi up from his kneeling position, pulled the petite blonde to him and devoured his mouth, draining him of the last of the Gift. “Yes,” he murmured and then collapsed back into unconsciousness.

Yohji got a stiff elbow in his side from Barret. The temperamental man handed him a bandana with an amused look. The oaken-haired man looked at him blankly. 

“You’re drooling, idiot,” Barret blandly stated. “Thought this might help.”

“Ah, yeah,” Yohji responded, discreetly wiping his mouth with the proffered cloth. “And Ken looks like he’s about ready to kill our newest acquisition.” 

“Heh that might be kinda funny.” 

“Not really. We might need him at some point, unfortunately.” Yohji held out his hand and helped Omi back to his feet. “You okay, Chibi?”

“I’m fine,” the young man responded, giving the oaken-haired man a soft smile. “I don’t think the person that kissed me was….did you get his name, Yohji-kun?”

“Ah, no. Things were a little chaotic when we met.”

“We’ll have to correct that oversight when he wakes up.” Omi swayed a little and Ken pulled him into his arms so he could act as a scaffold. The petite blonde smiled his thanks and turned his attention back to the group. “I’ve never had a Gift react so violently. Maybe…..” He shook his head. “That’s neither here nor there. Ken, why don’t you find Abyssinian some pajama bottoms? We wouldn’t want him to catch a cold.”

“Abyssinian?” 

“Yes, Balinese…..Abyssinian. Doesn’t he remind you of that proud, graceful cat; that red hair and wide, purple eyes?”

“Lavender,” Yohji murmured. “Speaking of red hair, there was a guy with orange hair on the other team. He’s a pretty strong telepath, but his shields were shit.”

“Yes, well that discussion is for another day.” Omi gave Yohji one of his sweet, puppy eyes smiles. That put the leggy blonde on alert. “As you already have a history with our newest member, why don’t you put him into that monstrosity that you call a bed?”

“But he ..... I …. There’s no way in hell.”

“Yohji,” Omi said, becoming very serious. “He’s been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours and I need someone I can trust to watch over him.”

“I …. Alright. What should I look for?”

“Well, if he’s turning blue, that’s not a good sign. But other than that, he should wake up in a few hours. Do have the supplies to deal with overextension shock on hand.”

“Gottcha.” Yohji bent down and carefully picked up the young man who’d come, literally, flying into his life.

The scent of sandalwood and patchouli with a flowery undertone fill his nostrils. The redhead was heavier than he looked, all that muscle. He sighed and cuddled against Yohji's shoulder. If this guy hadn’t just killed one of his team members, the oaken-haired man would find him totally irresistible. Even now he was having a hard time … hard time was right. His semi-aroused cock rubbed against the rough fabric of his jeans.

They finally reached Yohji's room and he had to finagle the unconscious man around so that he could put his key in the lock. He carried his burden through the doorway and straight to his messy bed. Thank god, he’d changed the sheets the day before; his highness might not appreciate sleeping in dirty bedding. He lay Aya down and his eyes were drawn to one thing; a thin trail of hairs that disappeared into the hastily pulled on pants. Cherry red hairs accented pale white skin leading his eyes from the man’s bellybutton to the dangerously low-slung pants. He couldn’t resist; he put is face down against that skin and lightly swiped his tongue around the sweet, natal dimple. Abyssinian tasted as good as he looked. 

Yohji pulled away, covered the man up and walked into the adjoining bathroom. He needed a cold shower. He was becoming a pervert. To molest a defenseless man like that; maybe he just required a night of clubbing that ended with really hot sex in some love motel. He allowed the vision of two, beautiful slutty women lying with him in a cheap rat trap. The dream would have been perfect if the women hadn’t kept changing to thin, muscular redheads. He groaned to himself and stepped into the shower. To hell with it, he was jacking off!

* * * * * * 

Aya stood in the doorway of a traditional _shinden-zukuri_. It didn’t look familiar, but the need to go deeper into the abode grew stronger. He slipped out of his _zori_ and stepped up into the main house. He realized that he was wearing a midnight blue kimono with the _mitsu uroko kamon_ of the Hojo clan under black _hakama_. Shion was tucked into his waistband along with a matching _wakizashi_. The clothing felt … normal; he wasn’t used to it, but it felt like he was born to wear it.

The silence and peace of the house was broken by the sound of the wind through the trees, the soft songs of birds, wind chimes and the clack of a _shishi-odoshi_ fountain. The scent of cherry blossoms and other flowers filled the air and accented the slight tannin tang of the old wood. The ascetic decorating helped to sooth him and he realized that everything worked to create a calm, peaceful environment.

He traveled further into the house, following the feelings that guided him to a veranda the faced the garden. As he stepped onto the wooden deck, he noticed an elderly man sitting and staring at the flora that surrounded him. He looked like he was about sixty or seventy years old, but his body was hardened and well trained. A little pooch had formed on his stomach and his yukata did nothing to hide the fact. He looked at Aya and smiled.

“Took you long enough,” the old man growled.

“Sorry, Sensei, but I had to be born before I could come here,” Aya answered, sitting down next to the man. 

The old man threw back his head and chortled loudly. “I think that you’re the first person who’s ever pointed that out to me. As a matter of fact, you’re the first person who has survived my attempts to pass on my power.”

“I think I’m glad I didn’t know that before this happened,” Aya said, shivering.

“Don’t try to play dumb with me,” the old man snapped. “You would welcome death, right now. But you’ve got a wrong to right, don’t you?”

“Yes, but….”

“No buts! You are the one person that can protect that child!”

“Yes, sensei,” he answered. He rose to his feet and made a proper bow. “I’m known as Aya now.”

“And I am the Dragon of Clan Hojo. I’ve been waiting for you since the fourteenth century and you just took your bloody time getting here.”

“Where is here?”

“This is your center,” Dragon stated. “I’ve never seen one quite so solid and settled in a person that has almost no training.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“I have given you all of my knowledge. It’s all in this place and you will slowly start to absorb it. I only stayed around to make sure that you were ready for everything that you needed to know. But as you have a very good foundation on which to build you power on, I will take my leave and rejoin the rest of my family.” He stood up and started to leave. He turned back to Aya and pointed to one of the paper doors. “There’s something in there that I think you might like.” He stepped off the veranda and disappeared.

Aya rose to his feet and headed to the door. His hand shook as he pushed the entryway opened and stepped in. Lying there on a luxurious futon was the leader of the team he had been ordered to destroy. The oaken-haired man was naked and stroking himself with long, languid caresses. Smokey, emerald eyes looked up at him and the long, golden legs spread, exposing that beautiful body to Aya's hungry eyes. He fell on him and began to ravish the proffered body.

He nuzzled the golden column of Yohji's neck and then bit down hard, marking his territory. Their naked bodies rubbed against each other as the redhead thrust deep into the hidden pucker of his partner. Then everything went black.


	5. Chapter Five

Divergence 

Yohji was having the most delicious dream. A thin, well-callused hand stroked aimless patterns over the taut, golden skin of his belly: occasionally drifting lower. Something hard and luscious pushed against his back and nestled in the crack of his ass. Velvety lips caressed his neck and shoulders sending shudders through the leggy blonde’s body. The heavy, languorous feeling lasted until sharp white teeth bit the junction of his neck and shoulders, breaking the skin and drawing blood. The pain threw Yohji out of the dream and into reality.

“What the fuck?” he yelped, thrusting his elbow back into the gut of his attacker. The force of the blow pitched the other occupant of the bed out and onto the floor.

Aya sat on the floor, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs out of it. He tried to draw his thoughts into the proper pattern, but his brain felt like someone had pulled his head open and stirred it with a spoon. He had vague memories of being in a house and talking to an old man. After the meeting, he’d seen a vision of himself with the leggy blonde who had led the team he’d gone up against. Yohji rolled over to glare at the man who had bitten him. Aya's tongue flickered out and licked the blood coloring his lips. There were definite changes in the redhead. His ear tails were gone; his hair in back now touched just below his shoulder blades and had deepened from its normal cherry red to a deep, burnished auburn. His lavender eyes blazed with an inner fire and were more almond-shaped than before. It was like he had been reformed on a celestial forge. He had become … gorgeous. 

Aya rose to his feet and stalked toward the bed; his footsteps were bold, confident and quiet. He walked behind Yohji, kneeled on the bed and placed his lips against one seashell-shaped ear. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against that delicate curve. “Let me make it up to you.” He licked the ear and reached an arm out so that the blonde could see his hand. He closed his fist and then reopened it. A small, green flame danced in the cup of his palm. He pulled his hand back and placed against the injury to Yohji's shoulder. 

Yohji pulled back, trying to get away from that blaze. He jumped as the redhead’s hand touched the wound. Warmth and tingling flowed through him, reviving him. When the heat dissipated, he whirled around and was face to face with the newest member of the resistance. Cherry-red lips swooped down and captured his own. His lips parted and he took a breath to complain about the forward treatment of the upstart; Aya's tongue swept into his mouth, licking every crevasse and drawing out his sweetness. Then he drew away and headed out of the room.

Yohji sat there, his lips still poised from the steamy kiss. “You rotten, horny, redheaded bastard,” he snarled at the empty door. “If you think you can get away with treating Yohji Kudou like that, you’ve got another thing coming.” He stormed out of the bed and stalked into the adjoined bathroom.

The small room was tiled in green and gold tiles with touches of cream at the accent points. Geometric patterns covered the floor and halfway up the walls. Plain cream half walls and ceiling highlighted the porcelain. In the middle of the ceiling was a skylight that filled the room with natural light. The air smelled of the products he used when he showered. Passion fruit vines fill the flowerboxes below the aperture and their flowers added their scent to the space. Here and there grew Cattleya orchids, adding a showy splash of color and an exotic fragrance to the atmosphere.

He glanced in the mirror, stopped and stared again. After flipping on the light over the vanity, Yohji started swearing at what he saw in the looking glass.

“That fucking little bastard,” he growled, peering at the giant love bite that colored the golden column of his neck. “That miniature prick got rid of the bite mark, but left the damned hickey! As soon as I see him, I’m gonna kick his ass!” 

He grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cold water. He applied the makeshift poultice to the blemish and turned the water in the shower stall. He stripped off his pajama bottoms and climbed into the warm water. Somehow, he’d get even with that damned redhead.

 

* * * * * * 

 

Three days passed before Yohji saw his tormentor again. He’d been in the middle of running through his exercises when he felt a light touch on his Shields.

_:Yohji,:_ Omi's voice resonated in his mind. _:Please join us in the mission room.:_

_:On my way,:_ he responded, setting the practice simulacrum back to its neutral position and stepping through heavy shielding of the course. He hurried up to the room that they met in before every mission. The room was quietly decorated; soft aqua wall with touches of off-white, natural linen blinds covered the windows and a neutral shag rug with shades of aqua, cream and taupe softened the floor. Large, potted palms were in the corners--the prerequisite living thing in a room meant to plan death.

He stepped through the door and seven sets of eyes turned toward him. The first thing he noticed was Kavin sitting in the room without Sybel; that put his nerves on high-alert. He strode over to an empty chair and eased his body into to. 

Kavin sat with his head resting on the table. His hair hung limp and greasy and a faint smell rose off his body. Black rings hung under his eyes and his cheeks looked slightly sunken in. Something had happened and it wasn’t good. 

“Alright, Kavin,” Omi said, motioning to the disheveled man. “Tell us what’s going on.”

“About three days ago, right after Aya joined us, Sybel said he was going to try and make contact with the other team. The one that Yohji's team faced earlier in the day. He’s been in a coma-like state ever since.” The big man put his face in his hands. “I’m lost. I don’t know what to do about him.”

“I’ve asked Aya to look into the problem,” Omi answered.

“And I have,” the redhead responded. “He’s still there, but he’s not.”

“That’s really fuckin’ informative,” Barret snapped.

“That’s all that I can tell you. He’s still attached to his body, but his consciousness is somewhere else.” He canted his head to one side, “It’s almost like he’s in deep conversation with someone. I can’t get close enough to truly find out, but ……”

“Thank you, Aya.” Omi looked over at Kavin. “Why don’t you go and get some rest? Aya and Yohji will watch over your charge. Don’t argue, big man, just go, eat and take a shower; you reek!” 

“Yeah, I know.” The big man stood up and started to walk out of the room. He turned back and glared at the two men who were to watch his charge. “You two better not let anything happen to him. If even one hair on his head is displaced, I’ll rearrange both your faces.”

“Kavin, go get yourself cleaned up,” Aya answered, giving the big man a half-grin. “We’ll watch over him and he’ll be fine until you rejoin us.”

“Hn,” was the only answer.

Aya and Yohji stood in tandem and walked out of the room. The tall blonde shot his companion dirty looks as they headed toward the Seer’s quarters. The quiet redhead ignored the nasty glances and kept his eyes focused on the marble flooring. Being snubbed was a new feeling for Yohji; even his enemies tended to pay attention to him.

They reached the room and let themselves in. The austere surroundings were extraordinary neat, everything in its place and a place for everything. It made Yohji's skin creep. Nobody should be that well-organized. 

“Let’s go look in on our charge,” Aya said, breaking the silence. He stepped into the bedroom and moved over to the supine figure on the bed. “He needs a bath and we need to turn him”

“Don’t you think that Kavin already did that?”

“No, he’s starting to get break down on his coccyx….”

“His what?” Yohji stammered.

“His butt.”

“Why the hell didn’t you just say that?”

“I think I did. Now help me get him turned and cleaned up.”

They carefully turned him and wiped him down with warm water; turned him and changed the bedding under him. The leggy blonde was amazed with the ease that his partner did all these chores.

“Were you an orderly?” he asked after they were finished with their tasks.

Aya glared at him. “No,” he murmured, looking at his hands. “My younger sister was injured in a hit and run accident and I helped take care of her after my parents brought her home.”

Yohji reached out and clasped him on the shoulder. “I can imagine what Rezac and his cronies did to her.”

“Let’s not go there.”

Yohji glared at the redhead. “When you Healed me the other day, you forgot something.”

“What?”

“The hickey, you little bastard! You forgot all about the ginormous bruise on my neck.”

Aya gave him a sly grin. “I’m somewhat like a wild animal.”

“In what way?”

He leaned over and pressed his lips against Yohji's ear. “I always mark my territory.”

“WHAT?!?!” he yelped, rising to his feet.

“Yohji, do you have to be so loud?” Sybel whispered from the bed.


	6. On the Precipice

On the Precipice 

Crawford slowly rejoined the living. Several days had passed since the vision captured him. He cracked his eyes open and was hit with a feeling of disorientation; he still rested in the infinity room. He stretched his minor Gift of Telepathy to its limits, hunting for the rest of his team. The other three members of Schwarz lay nearby: each in his own mind, learning the basics that they should have been taught from the beginning. Something smelled rotten in the state of Denmark.

He sat slowly up, letting his body readjust to being erect. Once the room stopped spinning, he re-opened his eyes and allowed his mind to right itself. He then rose to his feet, the endless emptiness of space surrounding him on all sides. This little rift in time and space was the only place he felt confident Ailill couldn’t snoop on him. He thought of the vision that had precipitated the visit from the enemy Seer and what he had learned of the mysterious figure who pulled Rezac's leash. 

‘I need to speak to Farfarello,’ he thought. ‘That word he used, Unseleighe isn’t one that I’ve heard before.’ His stomach chose that moment to declare war on his backbone. “Food and then more thought,” he muttered, heading out of the room. He cobbled together a suitable meal, something that wouldn’t go bad while he waited for the rest of the team to regain consciousness. He did stretches while he waited for the coffee to brew. When it finished, he poured into an insulated carafe and put the pot on a tray with the rest of the meal and carried his load into the hidden room.

He slowly ate his meal and drank the first cup of coffee. The scalding brew tasted like ambrosia and helped to finish clearing his thoughts. The bond Schuldig had forged between them was stronger, but not so intense that if one of them fell in battle the rest of the team would be incapacitated. It had also transformed to where he could easily find the other three without too much trouble.

That matter settled in his mind, he turned his attention to the problem of Ailill. The strange man was trouble; there had to be a way to stop him. The child they had been sent after seemed to be the key to all of this. There were things that he needed to talk to his team about, but the conversation would have to wait until the whole squad was awake and alert.

He sat, thinking, for hours. A faint flicker warned him of Schuldig's impending waking. He got a cup of now lukewarm coffee, slipped behind the Telepath, sat him up and began to carefully dispense him the warmish liquid. He was rewarded with the orange-haired man swallowing larger and larger amounts of the reviving fluid.

_:Mein Gott,:_ the rough voice muttered into Crawford's head. _:I feel like someone’s gotten into my head and tossed things about.:_

_:I think that’s a side effect of the teaching we received. I have a feeling we just obtained the barest minimum to use our Gifts correctly. Just enough to make us more efficient, but not enough to cause us to become a danger to our enemies.:_ Crawford answered. He switched to normal speech. “If I were in their place, that’s what I would have done; if that.” 

“Crawford, you would have left them floundering in the water,” Schuldig sniped, a sly grin lighting his face.

“Hm.” Crawford looked at the somnolent form of Berserker. “There are more than a few questions that I have for Farfarello.”

“Patience, mein Herr. Right now he’s not talking.”

The bespectacled man rose to his feet. “Stay here -- eat, wake up and watch over the others.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Take a shower and get cleaned up. My skin and hair itch … I feel grungy.” He moved to the door and reached for the handle. He looked back at the maniacal Telepath. “We’ll be safe until the other two come around. So, just relax and recuperate.”

“Ja Wohl, mein Kapitän.”

Crawford threw him a tight smile; then stepped through the door and into the real world. Schuldig ate, drank and practiced his Shields. Bored with that, he stood up and paced. When that didn’t ease his nerves, he carefully started to insert himself into the minds of his defenseless companions.

Farfarello's mind featured a jumble of witches, demons, banshees and dark shadows that reached out to tear an unsuspecting soul to shreds. Nagi's, on the hand, had a seething mess of teenaged emotions. Dirty wet dreams collided with nightmares. The most clear image was of Crawford, standing stark naked, his cock at half-mast and a sly come-hither look on his face. The sadistic redhead filed that one away for future torment … of who he didn’t know.

Nagi's mind flickered awake. Schuldig stepped over to the dorm-sized refrigerator and pulled out a can of juice. He slipped in behind the youngest member and began giving him the drink.

_:Mein kleiner Mann,:_ Schuldig murmured into the teenager’s mind.

_:Schuldig, why do you insist on using German?:_ Nagi groused into his head.

_:Because I know how crazy it makes you, Kind:_

Nagi reached out and grabbed the juice bottle, swallowing the remaining fluid in several deep gulps. He sighed and was rising to his feet when Farfarello's mind snapped into wakefulness.

There was no faint flicker -- Berserker’s mind came immediately awake. He sat up, stood up and stalked over the other members of the team.

“Where’s Crawford?” the white-haired man demanded.

“Taking a shower,” Schuldig answered. “We’re to wait here. Herr Kapitän will rejoin us in a short time. There’s food and cold coffee over on the table.”

The door to the infinity room opened and a clean, suited Crawford stepped over the threshold. His black hair was damp and slicked back; the white linen suit looked impeccable and perfectly pressed -- not a wrinkle or speck of dirt anywhere. The scent of Drakkar Noir filled the air around him; the fragrance driving Schuldig crazy. Speaking of crazy, his neat and orderly appearance forced the orange-haired man to maintain careful control of himself. One of these days, he was going to muss that hair and thoroughly, permanently wrinkle that suit. The dark-haired man glared at him.

“We need to talk,” Crawford announced, pulling a chair over to him. He looked at Farfarello, thoughtfully. “I had a vision of what will happen if Ailill gets the boy we were sent to retrieve…”

“And?” Schuldig questioned.

“It’s not good. This team will be destroyed. In the revelation, Farfarello, you called Ailill by a word I’ve never heard before. You called him an Unseleighe; that along with the fact that you knew how to make him stop torturing Schuldig makes me think you’ve seen his kind before.”

The Irishman canted his head to one side, a knowing look on his face. “He’s an Unseleighe Sidhe.”

 

* * * * * * 

 

Yohji, Aya, Micah and Barret strolled up to the courtyard in front of Rezac Industries, looking like nothing more dangerous than a group of high-spirited friends. A young man sat on a bench near the main entrance of the building with an open guitar case filled with dollar bills and loose change. The instrument was cradled in his arms and he coaxed a spritely tune from it.

Aya studied the man they’d been sent to meet. Long, glossy black hair flowed down his back. Large, dark brown eyes glittered in a finely boned face. Full lips smiled from a lightly tanned face.

Yohji brought his fingers up and whistled at the man. “Gypsy!” he hollered, waving at the guitarist.

“Yohji, how are ya man?” Gypsy answered, bringing the current song to a close. “What brings you here?”

“Heard you were entertaining the masses here and wanted you to meet my newest boyfriend, Aya.” He gave the redhead a wicked smile.

Aya turned and gave him a smoldering look that turned the leggy blonde’s knees to jelly. He stalked over to Yohji, grabbed him by the back of the head and planted a searing kiss on his lips. The redhead controlled the kiss and made it well known that there was no way in hell that he’d play uke to Yohji's seme.

_:Now, now children,:_ Gypsy’s thoughts broke through the fire building between the two men.

Yohji turned his attention back to the musician. “Whatcha got for us?”

“Wait … it’ll become clear as soon as the sun sets,” Gypsy said, picking out a lament on his guitar. The group stood there, patiently waiting for the proper moment.

Just after sunset, two men walked out of the building. Aya recognized the shorter of the two as Pendleton Rezac. The sight of the second man made his blood run cold and then hot. The dragon started to rise and he was having a hard time keeping it under control. 

Gypsy started playing a tune and the tall, black-suited man began to dance about in a disjointed manner. If looks could kill, Gypsy would be bleeding his life out on the pavement right then.

_:Well, gentlemen, we now know the big secret of Rezac Industries:_ Gypsy spoke into all their heads.

Yohji answered.

“Rezac's got himself a Dark Elf and he’s not afraid to use him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own. Don't sue! The only thing of value I have is my anime collection!


End file.
